"I thought it would be better if you didn't know what I did for a living." Jed's voice was low and remote.

He followed Amy's gaze toward the harbor.

"Better? Or was it just easier for you if I didn't know?"

"You never asked any questions."

"Maybe I didn't want to know the answers."

"Why open up the subject now?" Jed asked calmly.

"I told you. After what Dr. Stearn said, it would be a little difficult to ignore it. Good thing for you I didn't visit Dr. Mullaney after you went to him to have him check your wounds, wasn't it? It might have been Mullaney who gave me the advice about keeping you away from knives and guns." Amy's fingers clenched and unclenched nervously. Dear G.o.d, Jed might have been killed. She might never have known what happened to him.

"Mullaney bought my story about the car accident. He didn't ask any questions. But Stearn apparently did a stint as a surgeon in Vietnam. He knew what he was looking at right away."

"So here we are with the subject of your employment opened for discussion."

"What if I choose to go on ignoring it?" He sounded only academically curious, as if he were testing alternatives.

Amy thought about it. "I suppose we could go on as we are."

That seemed to startle him. "You think so?"

She said cautiously, earnestly, "It might work. It's worked this far, hasn't it?"

He smiled faintly. "You're lying to yourself and you know it. You'd probably try to ignore your own questions, but I don't think you could do it. Not now that we're more than friends. And not now that the subject is out in the open. You'll start pushing for answers sooner or later."

"You think you know me very well, don't you?"

"I'm learning."

She nodded, accepting the fact that their relationship was changing almost daily and that he was a perceptive man. But before she could speak again she was interrupted by the approach of a huge bear of a man. He bore down on the table, a big grin slicing through his full beard. His beard had once been red but it was heavily streaked with gray these days. The man's shrewd brown eyes were as vital as ever, though, and Amy found herself smiling in return in spite of the tension that had been gripping her.

"Amy, girl, where've you been? Haven't seen you for ages. Your dad said you'd postponed your trip to the island for a couple of months."

"I did." Amy got to her feet and was promptly enveloped in a tight hug. "How are you doing, Hank?"

"Same as ever." He chuckled, the sound a rich, deep rumble in his chest.

"And Rosie?"

"She's around here somewhere. Probably in the kitchen. You two staying for dinner? She'd like that."

Without waiting for a response, Hank forcefully clapped Amy on the back. "Introduce me to your friend.

Heard you had a visitor with you."

"Jed, meet Hank Halliday. He and his wife, Rosie, own this place. They've been running it since before I was born. Hank, this is Jed Glaze. He's... a friend."

Hank stuck out a paw that was as big as Jed's. "Glad to meet you, Glaze. Any friend of Amy's and all that. How long you staying?"

"Amy and I are going to be here a few more days. We haven't really made any decision about when to leave, have we, Amy?"

She caught the cool challenge in his voice. "No, we haven't made any decision."

"Careful. That's what Rosie and I told ourselves thirty years ago. Kept putting off the decision to leave and look what happened. Let me get you two something to drink. I hope you're not still drinking that water you call white wine, Amy, 'cause I don't have any on hand."

"Actually, I was thinking of something a little stronger tonight," Amy replied dryly.

"How about one of Rosie's guava juice c.o.c.ktails?"

She gave in to the inevitable. "All right, I'll take a chance."

Hank looked inquiringly at Jed.

"Scotch," Jed said. "On the rocks."

Hank nodded. "I'll be back in a few minutes. And I'm going to tell Rosie that you're both staying for dinner, okay?"

Jed answered before Amy could. "Sounds good, Hank, thanks." He waited while the older man headed back toward the bar on the other side of the room. When he was out of hearing, Jed said calmly, "Where were we?"

"I believe you were telling me you didn't think I'd be able to keep my questions to myself." Amy looked directly at him. "I think you're right. Things have changed, just as you said."

He nodded. "I knew it would come to this sooner or later. I guess I hoped it would be later."

"Why?"

He shrugged, leaning back in the scarred rattan chair. "Because I've always a.s.sumed that when you found out the truth, you'd call a halt to our relationship. You're not going to like what I do for a living, Amy."

"I may not like it, but I don't think I'll end things between us because of it. Just tell me, Jed."

He seemed to come to some inner decision. "All right. I work for the government on a kind of unofficial, free-lance basis. The job with the engineering consulting firm is a convenient cover because I used to be an engineer. Now I go places and do things that have very little to do with engineering."

"And you also build bird cages," she said softly.

Jed paused. "And I also build bird cages," he agreed.

An unofficial, free-lance government agent who built bird cages in his spare time. Amy let the information wash through her as Hank returned with the drinks. She listened to the casual flow of conversation between the two men, marveling at the easy way Jed shifted gears. Jed definitely had a talent for showing people the side of him they either wanted or expected to see. She was thinking about how smoothly he had handled her parents efforts to treat him as if he were a potential husband when Hank turned to her.

"Hey, Amy, girl, you going to take him out to dive that old B-25? Most folks get a kick out of that."

Hank grinned at Jed. "Orleana Island's one big scenic attraction, I guess you'd say. A bomber went down during the war when the Marines took the island back from the j.a.panese. It's not far off the north sh.o.r.e in fairly shallow water. The few tourists we get around here are usually into diving and they always want to see it."

"I'll have to get Amy to show it to me one of these days," Jed replied, glancing at her.

Amy thought of the dark interior of the old, shattered fuselage. It would be a little like going into a cave.

She shivered and said nothing.

"The waters off the north sh.o.r.e are usually a good place to find dinner," Hank went on enthusiastically.

"I'm not much of a hunter," Jed said.

Amy looked into his eyes and knew he was lying. He hunted, all right. But Jed's game was human. She knew that in the depths of her soul. She had probably known it all along. Perhaps it was one of the reasons she'd allowed him to get so close to her. He was a man who knew how to keep shadows locked away behind iron bars and she needed to learn that skill.

"Rosie'll be out in a minute," Hank was saying. "Says she's got a pot of her special fish chowder going on the burner. Her chowder's just this side of heaven, ain't it, Amy?"

"It's terrific." She started to search for a more casual, conversational response, but found she couldn't find the words. How on earth did Jed do it so easily? she wondered. The answer was obvious. He'd had practice. He was accustomed to playing different roles. Amy was saved from the awkward situation by the arrival of Rosie Halliday.

"Amy, you little bit of a thing, you! How're you doing? Haven't seen you in months. 'Bout time you got back to the island. Understand you've brought along a man friend. Hope he's a site more interesting than the last one. I didn't take to that one. Let me see what you've got this time. Ah ha. He's big, ain't he?

Not quite as big as my Hank, but he'll do. Good, big hands. That's a sure sign."

"Of what?" Amy asked dryly as Rosie stopped beside her husband and stood, hands on her hips, studying Jed.

Rosie was not exactly small, herself. She was broad from top to bottom and her eyes were engaging blue lagoons set in a wide, laughing face. Her hair had gone almost as gray as Hank's over the years, but she didn't really change much. Rosie always had on a flowing white ap.r.o.n, a bright print dress and a flower in her hair. Tonight was no exception. She turned on Amy, appearing stunned by the question.

"Of what? A sign of what, girl? You don't know what I'm talkin' about? Big hands are a sign a man's built to match elsewhere. What's the matter with you? Don't you folks on the mainland know about this kind of thing? I thought s.e.x education was being taught in all the schools these days."

Amy went pink. She knew she ought to be accustomed to Rosie's sense of humor after all these years, but sometimes the woman still managed to take her by surprise. "I thought it was big feet that were supposed to be a sign of... you know," Amy mumbled into her drink, not daring to look at Jed.

Rosie glanced pointedly down to where Jed's large feet were stretched out under the table. "Well, I'd say he's okay in the foot department, too."

Amy nearly choked on her heavily laced guava juice. Hank intervened before she was called upon to reply to Rosie's observation. "That's enough, Rosie. You're embarra.s.sing the girl."

"She's a full grown woman now. Don't need to shield her from the facts of life any longer, do we?"

Rosie winked broadly at Jed, who was blandly watching the byplay.

"No," Jed agreed. "I think she's tough enough to handle the facts of life."

Rosie laughed delightedly and scooped up Amy's c.o.c.ktail. "Come on back in the kitchen and keep me company, Amy girl. I got to fix dinner for some folks we've got staying here at the inn. Some of them are leaving tomorrow and I want to send 'em off with fond memories. We'll eat when they've finished.

Hank, you can take care of Jed here, can't you?"

"You bet." Hank waved Jed toward a stool at the bar. "Come on up front and talk to me while I ply everyone here with liquor." He started back toward the bar and Rosie moved off toward the kitchen.

Amy glanced helplessly at Jed. "I don't think this is such a good idea," she whispered.

"Why not? You and I were having a hard time carrying on a conversation by ourselves, as I recall.

Limited subject matter. Go see if chatting with Rosie will relax you."

"Dammit, Jed, I don't need to be relaxed. Don't you understand? Hank just wants to check you out the way my parents did."

"Ah, another approval drill. But I'm good at getting through those, remember? Don't worry about it, Amy. I'll see you at dinner." He got to his feet, picked up his Scotch and sauntered toward the bar.

Amy stared after him, aware of all the things they had yet to discuss.

Jed worked undercover for the government. She couldn't concentrate on anything except that single fact.

It was when she entered Rosie's small, old-fashioned kitchen that Amy suddenly realized what Jed's admission meant. If he worked for the government, then she could stop worrying about whether he was part of a dangerous conspiracy against her. Surely the Feds had no interest in what had happened on the island in October. It was a private matter. She would have had more cause to be frightened if she had learned Jed was a true mercenary like LePage.

"Here, I knew this would lure you in." Rosie thrust Amy's drink back into her hand and picked up her own. "Not many folks can resist my little invention." She stirred the simmering fish chowder, then took a small taste.

"What in the world is in this guava juice, Rosie? It goes down easily, but I think I'm getting to feel the sting."

"Delayed reaction," Rosie explained, tipping a bottle of whiskey over the chowder. She put the bottle down on the chipped counter top and took another swallow from her guava juice c.o.c.ktail. "It's my secret recipe. Maybe I'll write it out for you as a wedding present."

"It might be years before I get it, then. I have no immediate plans, Rosie." Amy kept her voice cordial but firm.

"Hah. You're not gettin' any younger, you know. And the good Lord knows your parents are starting to fret about you and your sister's lack of interest in marriage."

"Well, they've stopped worrying about Sylvia." Amy found herself smiling. "She called to say the wedding's scheduled for next week. That's why Mom and Dad left for the mainland this afternoon. They want to vet the groom."

Rosie gave a great crack of laughter. "Now, ain't that just like Syl? Have everything tied up in a neat package before telling anyone about it." She waved a dripping ladle in Amy's direction. "You, on the other hand, were never that organized. Look at you-floundering around at your age, bringing a different man to the island every few months..."

"You're exaggerating, Rosie, and you know it. Jed's only the second man I've brought to the island. The one I brought a few months ago was just a... a diving acquaintance. And Jed's merely a friend."

"Sure. And if I believe that man out there with the big hands is merely a friend, you've got a nice bridge you can sell me, right? Come on, girl, we may be a little out of touch here on Orleana, but that don't mean we're stupid."

Amy groaned. "You know I didn't mean that." She leaned forward to sniff the chowder, anxious to change the subject. "That smells delicious. You said you had some people booked at the inn?"

"Yup, arrived a week ago to do some diving. We're starting to get paying customers on a regular basis these days. Some of this batch will be leaving tomorrow, but we've actually got a few more coming in next week. Hard to believe. Made reservations yet. Just as if the place were a real hotel." Rosie shook her head. "Orleana's getting downright popular. We've even got a cruise ship calling here once a week.

First thing you know the place will be crawling with tourists, just like Hawaii."

"I doubt that. Not for another fifty or sixty years. Orleana's just too far off the beaten track. Don't worry, Rosie, you and Hank and Dr. Stearn and my parents will all have your privacy for a long time to come."

"I surely hope so. I don't think I could adjust to what you folks like to call the fast lane. I know Hank and Stearn and most of the other locals couldn't either. Your parents are the only ones I ever knew who seemed to be able to come and go and live in both worlds. But if you ask me, since they retired here, it's getting harder and harder for them to leave. We sure have us some good times with them here, now."

Amy felt a small shiver of an odd and totally unexpected antic.i.p.ation. She didn't know whether she wanted to ask the next question, but she couldn't seem to help herself. Her fingers tightened around the gla.s.s in her hand. "Do you remember what it was like when we used to come here in the old days, Rosie?"

"Sure do. My memory hasn't gone anywhere yet. Hank and I opened this place a couple of years before you were born. Your folks and that guy who was your father's partner used to stop in here all the time."

Rosie grabbed her gla.s.s and took another healthy swallow. Amy winced at the quant.i.ty of liquor that was going down the other woman's throat. Rosie was apparently one of those people who believed the cook had a few privileges in the kitchen.

"I don't remember much about those first years," Amy prompted tentatively. Why was she doing this?

"'Course you don't. You and your brothers and sister were just babies. In fact, I remember the first time your mother carried you in here. You started squalling and I put a drop or two of whiskey on your tongue. Quieted you right down."

"I can imagine."

Rosie shook her head reminiscently. "Those were the days. We were all so much younger then, so full of life. Hard to believe so many years have gone by."

Amy took a deep breath. "Do you remember when Michael Wyman died?"